Ballads and Broken Strings
by Ceata88
Summary: A collection of one-shots from me, some inspired by prompts sent to me. They're either going to be really sad or really cute. Summaries of each are at the top. Stories are also generally connected to each other (continuity). Feel free to send me more prompts if you want.
1. Echo

**Finding Manolo fic, after Jorge revealed who really did. Fairly proud of how it came out. **

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><p>The rain had been there since Carlos had woken up, and thus his mind simply ignored it.<p>

However he noticed it again when he heard screaming and crying. If anything it was louder now. Despite his distaste for the weather he forced himself outside to find out what was going on.

"Maria's dead." One of the sisters sobbed.

Carlos was frozen for a moment. Dead? But how?

And then, in spite of his concern for the girl, all he could think about was Manolo.

The look in the boys eyes when he simply thought he had lost her in love flashed into his mind. What would his response be to losing her like this?

Probably similar to how Carlos was when Carmen died.

He made his way back to the bull ring as fast as he could. A part of him, a foolish part, hoped that Manolo was somewhere inside. Carlos had often expressed his grief in anger, perhaps his son would do the same.

But he was nowhere to be found. Carlos filled in his grandmother on what was happening as he got ready to search the town.

"I need to find him." He said.

"Yeah, before he does something stupid." Was all the woman said at the end of it. Her expression hadn't wavered, but her hands stopped knitting. "Like you."

Carlos pretended he didn't hear her as he ran out into the rain.

Finding Manolo proved to be a challenge. The boy wasn't in any of his usual spots. The Rodriguez hadn't seen him either, not since last night they said.

He did stop by General Posada's house. Although he was fully aware of how the general felt toward his son it was still possible Manolo was inside.

Joaquín answered the door.

The boy look tired, exhausted even. Carlos was certain Maria's death was hitting him just as hard, but he hadn't come to give his sympathy.

"Señor?" Joaquín looked at him but then dodged his gaze.

"Have you seen Manolo?"

"Mano-" The name fell from his lips and he looked past the father. "I last saw him across the bridge. He was with María when she..."

"I see. Thank you." Carlos turned.

"Ah, Señor? If you find him could you tell him I'd like to speak with him?"

Carlos wasn't blind to Joaquín's side glances. The boy always had a habit of doing that when he was in trouble for one reason or another. Something must have happened when María died.

But still, he nodded before he made his way to the bridge.

The rain was still falling but he had gotten used to it yet again. In spite of how drenched his clothes were all he could think about was finding his son. Find him, make sure he was okay, make sure he didn't do anything foolish. Carlos had, or at least he started to. It took his grandmother to snap him out of it, to remind him that he couldn't behave that way. He had Manolo to think about. He had his son to protect and raise, in spite of the absence of his wife.

It would always be a little lonely without his wife, but Manolo made it worthwhile.

The bridge was scattered with candles, all put out by the downpour. Had his son set these out? He chuckled and shook his head at the idea. He could picture the boy making sure each one was in place before lighting it, spending the entire night preparing this fiasco. María must have been impressed by it.

At least until...

Had she died here? Carlos had to assume she did. What could have possibly happened?

"Manolo?" He finally called out as he neared the shore. "Mijo?"

There was no response, or if there was the rain drowned it out. His eyes scanned the tree until he spotted something familiar.

Manolo's guitar lay there on the ground. Before Carlos could even question why his gaze moved over and found his son not lying much farther off.

"Manolo?" He thought nothing as he stepped closer. Laying on the ground in the rain seemed like a tame response when someone you loved died. "Come mijo, we should-"

A terrible chill ran from his shoulders down to his stomach. Something was wrong. He dashed over to Manolo and knelt next to him.

"Manolo?" Why were his eyes so empty? Why didn't they move?

He grabbed the young torero's face and turned it toward him.

"Mijo-"

Everything froze.

The rain fell silently around now. His heart seemed to stop beating all together and he held his breath.

Manolo's face was cold, which at first he assumed was from the rain, but he couldn't feel anything else. There was no pulse, no breathing, not a single muscle moved.

"Manolo!" He screamed this time, as loud as he could. His mind raced as he tried to think of something he could do. There had to be something he could do.

He lifted Manolo, leaning the boy's head against his chest. The sensation reminded him far too much of the last time he saw his wife. The sick sensation in his stomach plummeted and he curled over.

What did he do? What was he supposed to do.

"Manolo please, wake up." He whispered and buried his face in his son's shoulder. He knew he should try to do something but his mind just kept echoing memories back and forth.

When was the last time he had held his son this close?

All sorts of memories of carrying him flashed by. So many times Manolo had begged to climb up on his father's shoulders and shouted for him to charge. He remembered the few close calls in the bull fighting ring that had left Carlos clinging to his son, but only for a few moments. The man was always aware of the risks of putting his son in the ring, and yet he continued to pray a day like that never came.

And yet, his son was dead, and not even by a bull.

But a bull, Carlos could have fought a bull. He would easily jump into that ring yet again and charge straight at the animal. Fighting a bull, taking a horn for his son, that was easy. He could do that.

And yet, his son was dead.

Carlos couldn't protect him.

He failed to protect Carmen, and years later he failed Manolo too.

The tears finally came, all at once. His body shook violently and he screamed again, the sound muffled by his son's uniform.

_ "A Sanchez man never apologizes."_ The words from his own father echo'd in his mind. It had seemed like a legacy for so long.

But damn those words. Damn himself for ever saying them to his own son.

"I'm sorry." He did his best to say as he almost crushed Manolo's body in his grip. "I'm sorry, mijo. I'm..."

What good was it now. Manolo couldn't hear him.

Carlos had no idea how much time had passed. All he could focus on was the fact he was holding his son, and yet he wasn't. The lack of movement, of warmth, every fiber of him wanted to deny it was his son at all. That he he should just let go and keep searching. That Manolo would show up alive and well. He'd ask why his father was holding him so tight, but maybe he would still return the gesture.

"Señor?"

The voice tore Carlos out of his trance. He now realized the rain had stopped, though the dark clouds remained in the sky.

When he turned his head he saw Joaquín standing there. The boys eyes were wide, afraid.

And they should be.

He couldn't count the amount of times his grandmother had yelled at him after Carmen's death. Always for the same reason too. "Your grief is no excuse to treat everyone like that." He had tried to remember those words, especially in front of his child. Manolo didn't need to witness the rage in Carlos' voice as he tried to push his way through his emotions.

But Manolo wasn't here anymore, and Carlos was certainly angry.

"Did you... is Manolo all right?"

"Does he look all right?" Carlos stood, struggling to lift the boy for a moment.

"Manolo?" Joaquín's voice was so quiet, whimpering even, the exact opposite of the man who had strode into the arena yesterday.

"What happened to my son, Joaquín?" Carlos struggled to keep his voice low as he gritted his teeth.

"I- Manolo said there was a snake that bit Maria. Perhaps it... did... did he come back on purpose?" The soldier stumbled back.

The thought slammed into Carlos. Did his son let this happen?

_ "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."_

Too late.

"I didn't mean what I said." Joaquín was muttering, but Carlos still heard.

"What?" He growled. "What did you just say?"

The boy jumped. "I just- I didn't mean it. There was a bit of an argument when we found María's body-"

"This is your doing?" Carlos couldn't contain his voice anymore. It boomed and echoed across the lake as he stared at his son's supposed friend.

Joaquín opened his mouth, but said nothing.

"Why didn't you protect him?" Carlos didn't relent and even stepped forward. "The great hero of San Angel? Just what are those medals of yours supposed to prove? Why didn't you protect him?"

Something broke in Joaquín's eyes. His shoulders dropped and it seemed as if his legs would give out.

Carlos spotted something on his chest glow green.

"I'm sorry." The shaking voice distracted him. "Do you want me to-"

"No." The father snapped the word out as harshly as he could. "Please, just go."

Joaquín managed a nod, looking dizzy now, as he turned and trudged across the bridge.

Perhaps Carlos would regret his words later, but he certainly didn't now. Despite how much traveling that boy had done he still had much to learn.

He collapsed to his knees again. His son's body had become so heavy in his arms. A cold, empty, hollow weight that made him wish he could sink into the ground.

The ground.

Carlos knew he needed to bury the boy. In spite of how there should be a ceremony the town would be too focused on María. He wasn't a fool.

He had no choice but to leave his son there as he went to find a shovel. The walk seemed to take ages, and yet he could barely remember it. His mind started to echo again.

_ "Do you think María was impressed?" His son's eyes glittered as he looked up at him._

_ "Her and every girl in town." He laughed. _  
><em>...<em>

_ "That was amazing papá. Why did you ever stop bullfighting?"_

_ "Well I certainly wasn't leaving you with your great-grandmother." _

_ "Papá!" Manolo shouted at him but laughed. "I'm telling her you said that."_

_ "If you do you'll be in so much trouble." _

_ "Oh yeah?" The boy grinned before he darted off._

_ "Get back here mijo!" _

_ "Bisabuela! Did you hear what Papá just said?"_  
><em>...<em>

_ "Papá?"_

_ "Yes mijo?"_

_ "I know you don't want me practicing guitar but um... I wrote a song about you and mom."_

The memory cut into Carlos' mind and his chest. He remembered his hesitation at the time, but the boy's eyes were so desperate.

Now the tune was echoing in his head. His son had still been so young then, barely able to play, but he remembered. He remembered every faulty note and every time Manolo's voice cracked and tripped over the words. Every detail was coming back with clarity.

"She sways with the song..." Carlos found himself mumbling the words as he made his way into the bullfighting arena. "Twirling it in her hands..."

He continued to mutter the lyrics, oblivious of the tears now covering his face. He tore through a few supply rooms until he found one. It felt so much heavier than it should.

"A dance he never knew before... with a foe twice as strong..." He had almost made it out. "For force could never win... never..."

Carlos leaned on the shovel to keep himself standing. His throat hurt as he tried to hold back the sobs. Even with his inability to voice any more of the lyrics they still buzzed around in his head.

"Carlos?"

His grandmother's voice made him stand up straight, but he didn't move.

"Did you find him?"

He looked at the ceiling, praying for the will power to speak.

"Yes." His voice felt dry in spite of all the tears. "He... did something stupid."

He expected something to hit his head, for the older woman to shout at him. He waited for her to scold him and spit about all the foolish things he had done.

Instead it was just silence for a moment. Then, "I see. Take care of him, and yourself."

Carlos didn't say anything. He couldn't. All he could do was head back to the tree. His steps were heavy. The shovel dragged on the ground a few times reminding himself to lift it. The streets were so quiet now, the sky still grey as ever.

When he reached the tree he almost forgot Manolo was there. Like his mind was trying to forget the body's presence. But no, his son was still lying in the same position as he had left him. His eyes must have fallen shut at some point when Carlos was holding him.

Carlos wasted no time digging into the earth. Hopefully the work would distract him, keep him from thinking. Only a few moments into it he heard footsteps.

Turning he saw what were normally his least favorite people to be around, the Rodriguez brothers.

"Señor Sanchez?"

"What?" He didn't mean to growl as loudly as he did but the three men jumped.

"We uh, wanted to help." Pepe held up a shovel. "Grandma Sanchez told us and-"

"And what?" Carlos tightened his grip on the shovel.

"He was our friend Señor." Pancho was wiping away tears.

"And now that María's actually alive-"

"What?" Carlos' shout cut through the air. "She's what?"

"She's alive. We don't know how sir we just-"

Carlos dropped the shovel and dove for his son. María had survived was it possible his son could as well?

But Manolo still didn't move, didn't breath, nothing.

"Why doesn't he wake up?" Pepe said.

"This is so weird man." Pancho said. "Not to mention that Posada already called that wedding and-"

"He did what?" Carlos stood. The three brothers screamed and tried to hide behind each other.

"Y-yeah, there's going to be a wedding for María-"

"My son is dead and they're planning a wedding? A damn wedding? That damn Posada." Carlos stomped toward the bridge. "He should be digging this grave. He and Joaquín both, with their bare hands. He almost lost his own daughter today and he dares ignore what else has happened today?"

"Sir please-"

"We know you're upset but-

One of the brother's grabbed his shoulder. Carlos whirled around and punched Pablo directly in the nose.

"You do _not_ know." Carlos screamed as loud as he could. "Failing to protect both your wife and your child, having to bury them, you couldn't possibly know. And that man has the audacity to toss a celebration over it? To convince the town to ignore him? He's gone too far he's-"

The three brothers stared at him in fear, Pablo now bleeding from the nose.

Carlos relaxed his arms and let his shoulders fall.

_ "Your grief is no excuse to treat anyone like that."_

"I would appreciate the help." He finally said as he made he way back to his shovel. "Thank you."

"He was such a good musician." Pancho started crying again. "And bull-fighter, and ladies man and-"

"Please." Carlos cut in. "Please don't talk right now."

The three brothers fell completely silent, the quietest he had ever heard them in his life. They helped him dig and dig as the clouds finally started to break apart.

They continued to stay silent as Carlos lifted Manolo's body once more and carried it.

When was the last time he had held Manolo like this?

What was even the sense in that question. This time was undoubtably the last.

That thought sent him to his knees again. The brothers aimed to help him but as he pressed his forehead against Manolo's and started to sob they froze.

One of them lightly strummed the guitar, but soon Carlos faded it out. All his mind could focus on now was the cold body in his arms.

_ "They'll write songs about you."_

_ "And I will sing them."_

If only he could.


	2. Die Fighting

**Prompt from tumblr: "Soooooo, Carlos' death (or the aftermath)...?" I ended up doing both. **

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><p>Carlos didn't want to admit how good it felt when his fist made contact with the bandit's face. But with how much he missed his old life along with what was happening now it felt nothing short of brilliant. A part of him was sad the man was already unconscious.<p>

"Are you two alright?" He took the two boys in his arms and scanned them for injuries.

"Chakal is coming. With a whole army behind him." Ignacio shook.

Carlos could hear the clanging of weapons now. He nudged the boys toward the bridge before he stood. "You boy warn the town. I will buy you some time."

They stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, but nodded and ran.

They were smart children. They knew what he meant.

The echo of steel against steel grew louder. The ground vibrated with the force of all their footsteps. Carlos didn't move, he simply waited until the group emerged. All the men, and there were many, were lined with weapons from head to toe. Carlos was already reaching back for his swords.

"Who wants to go first?" He didn't let his voice waver as held his blades out in front. Years of being a bullfighter taught you well in covering your fear.

The man in front just laughed and moved to the side.

The ground quaked and pebbles moved in the sand as his opponent stepped forward. He was tall, massive, and made it very clear as to why his name struck fear in towns everywhere.

Carlos tightened his grip on his weapons. His heart slammed in his chest because he knew. He knew he wasn't about to make it out of this alive.

But if his wife had died a fighter then it was only right he did the same.

Chakal, the fearsome bandit before him, glanced up and down. "I hate bullfighters."

Carlos raised his weapons, not letting his glare falter. "Then come and get some." He shouted.

The men were snickering, laughing even, but Carlos drowned them out with another shout as he barreled forward. Chakal matched it with a roar of his own.

The bandit's swords whistled against the wind. Carlos dodged the one on his left and managed to block the one on his right. A swing of his own blade did not damage but sent plenty of the bandits weapons flying off. He prepared himself for another swift strike, hopefully to his face.

Then there was a sickening pop in his shoulder. Something warm and wet soaked his leg. The men surrounding them shouted and cackled.

It took Carlos far to long to look to his right. Only then did he see his arm, and most of his shoulder was gone. When had that happened? How had he not noticed? He could still feel his arm. He could feel his hand gripping his blade.

Something slammed into his chest. His back hit the ground but all he could manage to do was stare at the sky in shock. His vision was starting to fade out now. The bandits were shouting, cheering, as Chakal lifted his other sword.

Everything flashed for a moment.

Suddenly he was surrounded by cheering again, but it seemed different. His vision remained faded and he lifted his supposedly missing arm to clutch his forehead.

Then a voice, one he had almost forgotten, called out to him.

"Carlos!"

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><p>"Joaquín."<p>

The soldier jumped when his shoulder was grabbed. He turned to his left, his now blind side, to see Carlos standing there. The vision of Manolo's father, as he was now, still made him nervous. It felt like he was looking at a different person.

"Ah, hello Señor." Joaquín did his best to smile. "I'd like to say congratulations but..." Well he wasn't sure what to say. Certainly his son just got married but now he was...

Carlos tried a smile but it fell too soon. "I have a favor to ask."

"Anything Señor."

"Don't let Manolo see my body."

Joaquín's eye widened and his mouth fell open. "Sir? But why-"

"Please." Carlos' glowing eyes were pleading. "He's been through enough. I... I know you have as well. I know this is selfish to ask but-"

"I'll do it." Joaquín straightened his back. "I'll bury it as soon as I can."

Relief spread over the father's face. "Thank you. If... he asks why just tell him I asked you to."

He nodded.

Joaquín said nothing about what Carlos said all night. He said nothing as the sun set and the dead had to be sent back. He said nothing as he watched his best friend silently cry in his wife's arms. A lot had happened today, it came as no surprise.

In his silence he tried to slip away. Carlos' body was near the tree yes? The same tree he had found them both under in the rain. That damned rain. Had it been thundering as well? He couldn't recall since Carlos' violent shouts drowned out any other noise in his mind.

_"Why didn't you protect him?"_

He had this time at least.

At least.

But he barely made it out of the crowd before someone else grabbed his left shoulder.

"Joaquín?"

He actually screamed, whirling around to see Manolo and Maria staring at him with wide eyes.

"Guys, I know this injury is recent but try coming up on my right." He laughed.

"Where are you going?" María gave him a light smile.

"I just... ah I have something to take care of." He glanced to the tree. "It's fine, you two should head home and get some rest."

"So should you, hermano." Manolo motioned to his eye.

"It won't take long, I hope." He backed up a bit.

"What is it?" María said. "Perhaps we can help."

"No." Joaquín didn't mean for his voice to snap. "I mean, really it's fine."

"What is it?" María repeated. Now her arms were crossed and her eyes were narrowed.

"I... Manolo's father asked if I would bury him and..." He had to pause when he saw the look on Manolo's face.

"Then we certainly should help." Manolo tried to shout but his voice cracked. "I want to."

"No. Manolo he asked me because he doesn't want you to."

"Why not?"

"He didn't exactly explain it to me I just-"

"I'm going."

"No you're not."

"Hey," María stepped between them. "Honestly you two we're all tired this isn't a time for an argument. Especially over this."

"I told him I'd keep you away." Joaquín lowered his gaze to the ground. "Manolo you've been through enough. There's probably a good reason he doesn't want you to see-"

"I know." Manolo sputtered and swallowed. "I know but... please Joaquín."

Every fiber of him wanted to lift Manolo right off the ground and carry him home. He wanted to shove his friend into the bed and beg him to rest. Carlos' reasons to keep Manolo away were probably sound. Why couldn't Manolo just listen to his father for a change?

"Fine." He ended up agreeing, like he always did when his friends asked. "But I swear I'm dragging you home if it gets bad."

Manolo forced a small smile and nodded. "All right."

"I'm coming too, right?" María said. It was far more of a command than a question. "Or do you think a woman couldn't handle it."

Joaquín actually laughed at that until he noticed her lips never moved from their frown. "Oh, ah, I' m sorry about that. I wasn't thinking at all. Of course you can come." In reality he didn't want her too either but he didn't dare argue. If it was that bad he'd drag them both home.

"I will say this." Joaquín started to head to the bridge. "I've seen these kinds of things before. It... leaves an impression." He had to be delicate with his words now. This wasn't just any fallen man on the battle field it was Manolo's father.

"I understand." Manolo said.

His voice was shaking.

The bridged creaked as the trio stepped across it. The town had quieted down now considerably now that it was dark. The water echo'd under the wood as it slapped against it. Normally a calming sound, but now it just filled Joaquín with dread. A few of Manolo's candles were still scattered on the bridge. Most of them fallen, damaged from the rampaging bandits. Joaquín's mind wandered back to the last time he had seen them.

The last time he had seen Carlos alive.

He felt sick now. The tree became less of an image in the background and was now looming over them. The shadow it cast made him dizzy as his mind raced.

He hated shadows.

But he tore his eyes away from the tree as he glanced around below it. Carlos, he needed to see Carlos before Manolo did. He needed to shove his friend away if it was too much. He needed to protect him.

But he failed.

María screamed first. The sound sent him into a panic and he couldn't focus on what he was looking for.

"Papá!" Manolo screamed this time. Joaquín could feel the bridge shake. His arm shot out and blocked his friend.

"No Manolo-"

The torero shoved his arm away. Joaquín grabbed him from behind and pulled him back.

"Manolo please-"

His friend screamed. Any words he was trying to form were lost. He kicked and struggled but Joaquín refused to let go.

Finally he saw it. He saw what was causing his friend such distress. Carlos' body was laying on the grass, face up. His arm was gone, most of his shoulder as well. Joaquín couldn't even place where the limb was located. There was so much blood from the wound still staining the ground. It only increased from the wound on his throat. Perhaps the final blow? The sword had almost completely severed his neck it seemed.

Joaquín could only pray it was a quick death.

"María." He swallowed when his voice shook. "Take Manolo back now."

His friend stopped struggling now. He was limp in Joaquín's arms, shaking and sobbing.

"Are you sure?" She placed her hand on his right shoulder this time.

"Please." He gritted his teeth before he looked at her. She was crying as well, biting into her lip. But she managed a nod, moving her hand to Manolo.

"Come see us after?" She asked as Joaquín gently handed her husband to her. The man would have fallen if María didn't put herself under his arm.

"We'll see. Just go."

Joaquín didn't move at all as he listened carefully to their footsteps. At least it seemed Manolo gathered himself enough to walk. Perhaps he'd regret it tomorrow, muttering wishes about how he wanted to be with his father. But really, he had been with the man not even an hour ago. What was lying on the ground was no longer his father.

But Joaquín understood, at least to a point. To see someone you loved so much in a state like that, imagining what must have been going through their mind, it hurt.

It hurt.

How long had he been standing there? It was so quiet. The numbness in his chest had spread down to his toes and he couldn't move his legs.

He swallowed, now noticing the tears sliding down his face. With a grit of his teeth he wiped them away, scratching his cheek in the process. He forced his legs to move, stumbling a few times on the bridge.

He had a job to do.


	3. Glowing Green Aftermath

**Prompt from tumblr: "TBoL prompt: The medal of everlasting life doesn't eliminate pain, it postpones it." Basically Joaquin is about to have a really shitty week. This ended up a lot longer than I planned initially sorries! Also a lot fluffier but I doubt there'll be any complaints on that. **

* * *

><p>It had started out so small.<p>

About a week after the day of the dead Joaquín could feel light stings on his skin. In spite of his years with the medal he still remembered what scrapes and cuts felt like. At first he ignored it since it felt more like small pinches. He wondered if maybe all this time he had managed to get some twigs stuck in his uniform.

Then there was a sharp one on his hand and he finally looked at the source.

There was indeed a cut on his skin, but rather than bleeding it glowed an eerie green.

A very familiar green.

He had no explanation or ideas about what was happening to him. He could feel fear creeping up on him, especially when he checked all the other scrapes and cuts around his torso. All of them glowed despite their different shapes and sizes.

But without an answer Joaquín decided all he could do was ignore it, pretend everything was fine.

Just like always.

When a few more scrapes appeared on his hands he started wearing gloves. He hoped no one would notice, and most people didn't, but nothing got past his friends.

"Those are new." Manolo waved his hand and smirked. "Seems like an odd time to wear them with all the repairs, hm?"

Joaquín rolled his eye. "Maybe I like looking good while I work."

"Oh I don't doubt that." Manolo's grin widened. "How did it go again? 'Hey Manny, watch me dramatically jump over this wall screaming my name yet again!'" He widened out his shoulders and jumped through the air.

María, who was standing nearby, burst into a fit of giggles.

"That was impressive and you know it." Joaquín straightened up. "And at least I'm not the one who dropped the hammer on my foot three times."

"I dropped it the third time because you ran into me."

"Or you just have butter fingers." The soldier nudged his friend.

Manolo almost dropped his guitar.

"See?" Joaquín laughed.

"Because you ran into me." Manolo shoved him back.

Joaquín lunged for another push when Manolo side stepped. The soldier stumbled, still unable to see straight half the time.

"You still can't catch me, can you?" The torero smiled.

"I lost an eye, cut me some slack."

"We should start working on that." María stepped forward. "Before you run off and get into any more fights."

"I can still handle myself." He straightened up. "But I suppose some practice would help."

"More than you know." Manolo still had that shit-eating grin on his face.

"Just keep smiling, we'll see how long-" Joaquín couldn't finish the statement. It felt like something slammed into his side. The muscles almost seemed to twist from it and he had to bend over to alleviate the pain.

"Hermano? Are you okay?"

"Ah, yeah." He gritted his teeth as he smiled. "Just, sudden cramp. Haven't had those in ages, you know?" He kept a hand over his side when he laughed. The pain was still almost unbearable, but he couldn't let them know that.

"The great hero of San Angel taken out by a cramp." Manolo's smile returned.

Joaquín never thought about how much he enjoyed that smile until he almost lost his best friend.

"We'll see who manages to get the most work done today then, shall we?" The soldier bowed and motioned toward the church. "Or are you just going to sit back and play some 'inspirational' tunes for us."

Manolo's face immediately turned into a sharp glare.

"Boys, really," María sighed but smiled. "It's not a contest-"

"Let's just see who can get there first." Manolo shouted and darted off down the road.

"I just said I have a cramp you cheater." He said, but couldn't stop himself from laughing as he took off as well.

Eventually the pain in his side dulled, but after it came more stings and even a burning sensation on his right leg. Still, he powered through it as he worked through the afternoon. He managed to stand losing his eye after all, he could handle this. The act seemed to work as well, no one saying anything when he almost dropped a small pile of wood.

The only one who did notice was María.

"Joaquín?" She gently touched his arm, like she always did. "Are you feeling all right?"

"What? Fine." He smiled in spite of a sharp pain making it's way from his shoulder blade down to his hip.

"You seem off." She crossed her arms. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. You don't need to worry about me."

"Yes I do you big goof."

He could hear the teasing in her tone but her eyes were completely serious. For a moment he was getting lost in them.

"I- well- really I'm fine." He stuttered. "Maybe just a little worn out but it's-"

Suddenly a new pain hit, sharper than any of the others. It started in his lower back and felt like it was forcing it's way through his stomach and out of his chest. He clutched at it, trying to get it to calm down.

"Joaquín?"

Before he could even pretend he was okay three more hit. One dug into his shoulder and the other into his knee. His legs gave out from the pain and his fingers dug through his uniform.

"Joaquín?" María's voice was full of panic now as she knelt next to him. Her hands ran over his cheeks and urged him to look at her. He tried, he really did, but the pain was too much right now.

"What's going on?" Manolo darted over to the pair. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know." María said.

"I'm... fine." Joaquín finally managed to say. "Really I-"

"You're not fine." She snapped at him. "Honestly."

"I'll _be_ fine." He snapped back and tried to stand. "For the last time-" Something was now digging through his neck. He panicked, knowing full well they would be glowing too. He tried to cover it with his hand but too soon the pain clawed past his cheek and toward his good eye.

María gasped. Manolo eyes widened.

"What is that?" She reached for his face again.

"It's-" He stumbled away from her. "If I said it was nothing would you believe me?"

Both of them glared and frowned at the same time.

"Damn." Joaquín stared at the ground. "I honestly don't know okay? But-"

A group of kids ran past the trio, chasing each other with wooden swords. The soldier scrambled to cover up the rest of his face. Even if his friends had caught him he couldn't let anyone else see.

"I'm taking you home." María said as she grabbed his arm.

"N-no I-"

"Would you rather stay here then?" Her eyes darted to the side where a whole cluster of people continued to rebuild the church.

"I mean I can take myself home. You two don't-"

"Joaquín." Her voice was cold and her expression was firm. Her fingers dug into his arm hard enough that it hurt.

"Y-yes ma'am." He lowered his gaze. There was no winning with these two.

"I'll catch up." Manolo said. "There will be all kinds of gossip if me and María leave at the same time."

"They can think what they want." She snorted. "But they do need help. I'll take care of him."

"I'm certain you will, mi amor." Manolo kissed her cheek before he moved back to the crowd.

Joaquín barely noticed the heat in his cheeks considering the pain. María, however, easily changed his train of thought as she jerk on his arm. She didn't let go of him until they reached General Posada's home. Although she had started moving her things to live with Manolo, Joaquín's room was still there. He considered getting how own house soon, but if his travels were going to continue there wouldn't be much point.

"So then," María said as she shut his bedroom door. "Am I right to guess that it wasn't actually cramps that were bugging you earlier?"

"You're too smart for me sometimes." Joaquín ran a hand over his face.

"No, I just know you well enough. You managed to stand right up after losing an eye, after all the time of receiving no injuries. A simple cramp wouldn't do that to you."

"Then why didn't you say anything earlier?"

She sighed and stepped forward, taking one of his hands. "Because, I hoped you'd trust us enough to tell us when something's wrong."

"I do trust you." He argued. "I just... didn't want you to worry if I could handle it myself."

She gently pulled the glove off his hand. "You're a strong man Joaquín, in more ways than one." Her eyes darted up to meet his. "But you don't have to shoulder everything by yourself."

"I-" He let out a long sigh and looked at the glowing cuts on his fingers. "I'm sorry."

Her other hand reached up and she trailed her knuckles over his cheek. "Let's just worry about these for now."

A part of Joaquín wanted to ask her to stop doing that. The sensation in his skin that jumped to his chest was too much sometimes. But then another part, a far more selfish one, refused to. He savored every moment of it.

"Are you getting these everywhere?" She asked.

"Yes." As he said that something dug into his ribs. Thankfully it was light compared to some of the ones earlier. "I think it's more than cuts too. Some feel more like bruises, a couple like burns."

María let go of his hand and stepped back. Her arms were crossed again and she simply stared.

"What?" He asked.

"Well, I need to see those too." She gestured to his uniform.

His face felt like it was burning to a point he wasn't sure if it was another injury or not. "Wh-what like, all of them? I'm not sure that's- I mean-"

She smiled and shook her head. "At least the top then?"

"All right." He breathed and tried to alleviate the heat under his skin. It didn't do much good, however, as María's eyes never left him. It's not like it was that big of a deal. Why wouldn't his heart calm down for a few seconds?

After undoing what felt like an endless amount of buttons and clips he tossed his coat on the bed and his undershirt soon followed.

When he was brave enough to look back at her the warmth finally fled at her expression. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open.

"What?" He asked again as he looked at his mirror. "Oh."

Green lines and blotches were everywhere on his skin. Some glowed more fiercely than others, probably the newer ones considering the pain. He could see the cause for his "cramp" earlier, a glowing green bruise that spread all across his right side.

"How are you still standing?" María stepped over for a closer look.

"Well I almost fell over twice today didn't I?" He tried to laugh until a burning sensation hit his left shoulder. He dared to look this time, watching the distorted green mark spread over his skin. "It is a wonder isn't it? You'd think I'd have a much lower pain tolerance."

She frowned. "This isn't funny."

"I- I know I just... sometimes laughing about it is the only way to deal with it." Somehow saying that brought a hollow feeling to his chest. He couldn't even begin to count the number of times he had laughed to cover up something else.

"I wonder if any normal pain killers would help." She bit her lip. "You should at least lie down until we figure something out."

He opened his mouth to argue but stopped. Trust her. He told himself. Maybe now was a really bad time to pretend he was fine. He was certain she wouldn't appreciate it either way.

"All right," He said. "But the second this goes away I'm restarting that contest with Manolo and you won't be able to stop me."

She smiled and nudged him toward the bed. "I wouldn't expect any less of you."

Feeling satisfied with that Joaquín reached for the covers but never made it. Something struck his chest, hard. Only a moment after something else not only hit his spine the sharp pain shot through all of his limbs. His knees gave way and he would have hit the floor had he not grabbed the mattress.

"Joaquín?" Maria put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's all right it-" His body was now determined to prove him wrong as the pressure on his chest grew. It felt like his ribs were cracking from it. He placed a hand over them just to make sure they were still intact. "M-maybe it's not all right." He gasped. Breathing became difficult but the pain didn't relent at all. The pressure moved from his chest to his shoulders and his stomach. Tears pricked the edge of his eye from the sheer amount of it all.

Then it felt like someone was driving knives through his chest into his back, over and over again. It was too much. It was too much for even him to handle.

He screamed.

* * *

><p>Manolo was so anxious as he helped he dropped the hammer on his foot a fourth time.<p>

Muffled curses followed the event, along with laughter from a few men nearby. The guitarist simply ignored them, moving his foot around to make sure he hadn't broken anything.

He wanted to see Joaquín. He wanted to make sure his friend was okay. The fool had always tried to smooth over his pain, medal or no medal. Every time his mother left from her brief visits he'd inevitably find Manolo somewhere and ask to do something. Eventually Manolo stopped asking why, he was tired of hearing the excuses. He knew why, he just wished his friend would try talking about instead of burying it.

"You seem out of it bro." Pepe suddenly slapped him on the back.

"Just a little worried about something." Manolo tried to smile.

"You mean your best friend wandering off with your wife?" Pepe laughed. "I'd be worried too man."

Manolo rolled his eyes but smiled. "No, that's not it."

"Well if it's bugging you that much maybe you should take the day off. Otherwise you'll drop the hammer on your foot again." He burst out into another fit of laughter and his two brothers soon joined him from behind.

"Hah, and who dropped that entire plank of wood on one of the sisters?"

"It was heavy, bro." Pancho argued.

"Seriously though, you don't have to stay here all day." Pepe said.

Manolo sighed and nodded. "You're right, thank you. Hopefully I'll be back tomorrow."

"Hope everything's okay man." Pablo shouted as Manolo ran for General Posada's home. He assume María took Joaquín to his own room after all.

He was surprised the house was as empty as it was. It seemed like at least a maid or two would be hanging around, but if they were Manolo couldn't see them. He headed for the stairs, but the second his hand touched the rail he heard a scream.

It was low but loud and violent. Manolo raced up the stairs, tripping on two of them in his scramble to reach the top. The second he reached Joaquín's room he threw the door open.

There was his friend, curled up on the floor with green marks covering his skin. María was kneeling next to him, hand on his shoulder, whispering his name.

"Wh-what happened?" Manolo stumbled into the room. His chest hurt more and more as he watched Joaquín shake and whimper into the floor.

"I don't know. I think whatever is causing these wounds is getting worse." Her fingers trailed over a long cut on his shoulder. "I... I don't know what to do." Tears were running down her cheeks.

Manolo felt sick. Two of the most important people in his life were in pain and he couldn't help.

His eyes lingered on the shade of green that glowed of Joaquín's skin.

"I don't either." He admitted before clenching his fists. "But I may know someone who does."

"Huh?"

"I'll be right back." He leaned down and kissed a few of her tears away. "Just hang onto him until I do."

Her eyes were clouded with confusion but she nodded.

Manolo darted out the door and back down the stairs. The second he was outside he moved into a sprint and refused to relent. He had no idea what was happening to Joaquín.

He had no idea how much time his friend had.

Despite the burning in his lungs he didn't slow do until he reached the graveyard. A few people were there, glancing at him, so he opted to dash behind Captain Mondragon's grave. If this didn't work out he didn't need the town gossiping about how he had lost it. They had enough to gossip about as it was.

"Xibalba." Manolo tried not to hiss. "If you can hear me you better get up here this instant."

Silence. Nothing.

He let out a frustrated sigh and tried something else. "La Muerte? Can you hear me? I could really use your help."

Another painful moment of silence. Then, "What is it Manolo?"

He turned to see a young but tall woman standing there. Another human disguise no doubt, but with her hair and her face it closely resembled her.

A smile of relief spread over his face but soon left. "I need to talk to your husband."

"Then why call me?"

"He didn't answer."

La Muerte sighed and rolled her eyes. With her hands on her hips she shouted her husbands name. Manolo hoped no one else in the graveyard could hear.

"Yes, mi amor?" Xibalba flashed into view, still in his god form. The smile on his face immediately dropped when he saw Manolo. "Damn, I should have known. What do you want this time boy?"

"What did you do to Joaquín?" Manolo pointed a finger. "You better explain it right now, and fix it."

Xibalba raised an eyebrow. "Why do you assume it was me? I can't be blamed for everything that happens in your life."

"The wounds that are appearing on his body are glowing the same color as you. Or are you telling me that's a coincidence."

Xibalba fanned his wings out as a warning. "If you want my help perhaps you should ask nicely." The god smiled, showing a row of pointy teeth.

"Xibalba." La Muerte warned.

"What? Regardless of what I did I think this boy should be a bit more respectful when asking for help from me." He leaned over, making their size difference as clear as possible. "So, let's try again shall we?"

Manolo wanted to spit, curse, do anything other than ask nicely. He didn't give a damn who Xibalba was, no one had the right to mess around with him or anyone else.

But he didn't have time to argue. "Could you please tell me what's happening to Joaquín." Manolo kept his voice level as he clenched his fists.

"That's better." The god snapped his fingers.

Manolo could hardly describe what happened. It felt like his body was being pulled through the air. His vision went blurry for a moment and when it finally returned he was standing in Joaquín's room yet again.

"Mano-" María's mouth hung open with surprise as she stared at him and the two gods. Joaquín had somehow managed to get onto the bed while he was gone. The soldier was on his back, teeth gritted together.

"And this is what reckless behavior gets you." Xibalba slid over to the bed. "By the looks of things this is only the beginning."

"Beginning of what?" Manolo growled.

"Before that, I think my wife may want to work a little magic before the boy passes out."

"Is it that bad?" María took Manolo's hand.

"I'm afraid so." La Muerte said as she floated over. Her sugar hands gently trailed along Joaquín's cheeks. All at once the soldier gasped for air as the glowing faded.

"Wh-what?" He stuttered and jerked out of the goddesses touch. "What's going on?"

"I suppose I should have warned you about the side effects before I left." Xibalba picked at his teeth.

Manolo shot him a glare. "You suppose?"

"Well you didn't want to keep this did you?" Xibalba flashed that damned green glowing medal. "Giving this up is the reason for all your trouble."

"You gave him that in the first place." Manolo would have stomped over if María didn't hold him back.

"You're right, my deepest apologies." The god said through a wide grin. "But that's not going to fix the problem on hand, so let's stop pointing fingers shall we?"

"Can you just explain what's going on?" Joaquín was rubbing his shoulder before his hand moved to his neck. Manolo only now noticed the layer of sweat on his skin.

"The medal protects you from all damage, you already know this. However upon giving it up all those injuries it prevented return, at once."

"What?" María shouted. "If that's the case then-"

"He should be dead? Not necessarily, it just creates the sensation of the wound. Although I will say some men have had their hearts stop from the pain." Xibalba jabbed Joaquín in the chest with his staff. "And many more were driven mad from it."

Manolo despised the look in Xibalba's eye. "Fix it."

"There's nothing to fix. He either suffers through it or not, that's up to him." The god turned and slid toward the door. "I genuinely can't do anything to put a stop to it."

"But La Muerte just-"

"I can only keep it at bay for a while." She said. "Soon enough it will return."

A weight pressed down on Manolo's chest. "No, there has to be something we can do."

"Aw come on Manny, where's your confidence in me." Joaquín was laying flat on his back smiling at the ceiling. "It'll be fine."

"Boy, with how reckless you were those ten years it could take over a week for all of those wounds to pass through." Xibalba said. "The pain will keep you from sleeping, unless it knocks you unconscious, and good luck doing much of anything else."

La Muerte sent a flurry of marigolds his way. The sound of them hitting Xibalba's face made Manolo smile, just a little.

"What? It's true." Xibalba glared.

"I'll help you." La Muerte turned. "We have no choice but to let the pain pass, however we can give Joaquín small breaks, give him time to recover."

Manolo said nothing as he watched her move to an empty vase. With a wave of her hand an entire bouquet of marigolds appeared, the flowers brimming with petals.

"Eating one of these petals should keep the effects away for about half an hour each. I hope it will be enough, but if not you're free to call me again."

"Not me." Xibalba said. "In fact I hope I never have to hear your voice again."

Manolo shot the god a glare but turned and bowed. "Thank you, my lady."

"I wish you luck, Joaquín." The goddess offered him a smile.

"Hah, it's appreciated but I'll be fine." He raised a fist in the air.

"Hold on a second." María spoke up. "If what Xibalba says is true then what about Manolo?"

"Huh?" He said.

"She's right Manny, you did sort of explode." Joaquín kept grinning. "Well, not literally, I mean you're still in one piece but-"

"It was one instance." Xibalba said. "He didn't have the medal that long, he's probably already been through the pain at some point."

Manolo pressed his eyebrows together as he tried to remember. You'd think the sensation of exploding would be one that's hard to forget.

Then he remembered, a dream, one where the entire town was on fire. He ran in there to save someone when a nearby building erupted. Even when he snapped out of it it still felt like lines of debris were buried in his skin.

"Now you've got it." Xibalba said. "If you'll excuse me I'll be going. Let's hope you don't drag me back here." With that his body melted and the tar vanished from the room.

La Muerte shook her head before giving them a soft smile. "Good luck, all of you."

"Thank you again," María said.

The goddess nodded before she vanished in a flash of golden petals.

"Ah, great." Joaquín sighed from the bed. "Going to be in constant pain for the next week, potentially at a risk of dying, and I get to eat flowers to stay alive. I think we should keep this one out of the story books, don't you?"

Manolo tried not to laugh at his friend's narration but the grin came across his face anyways. "You seem to be taking this all rather lightly, hermano."

"I doubt panicking will make me feel better." He rested an arm over his forehead. "Just keep making stupid jokes, it'll distract me." Then he turned his head, frowning. "You two aren't going to stay here the whole time, are you?"

"Well I don't think we should go very far." María said.

"He said over a week guys, I'm not going to keep you here-"

"We can take turns." Manolo cut in. "But María's right we can't just leave you."

Joaquín took a deep breath as his arm moved down to cover his eyes. "Fine. Not like I could stop you right?" He laughed.

Manolo only now noticed how empty it sounded.

* * *

><p>Manolo swore this was just another part of Xibalba's plan. Just some other sick test for him to overcome.<p>

Yet in spite of how much it hurt, how hard it was to breathe at times, he knew it couldn't even compare to what Joaquín was going through.

It was only one day later but Manolo was exhausted. Joaquín always did his best to bite through the pain, but it was far to clear how much he was in. Gritted teeth, heavy breathing, sweat dripping down his forehead and his neck, and those were some of the better moments. Other times a wound would appear leaving nothing but violent screams and tears in it's wake. Even when it was over Joaquín would bury his face in his pillow and try to cover up his sobbing.

Manolo said nothing. He knew if he did it would only make his friend feel worse.

So, as Joaquín had asked, he tried to make some stupid jokes.

"I didn't tell you about that?" Manolo kept his best smile as he stared at Joaquín's hand in his. He had no idea when it had occurred but he didn't let go. "The three of them tried to help with my training and the bull got loose, completely. Started rampaging through town."

"Bet your dad was pissed." Joaquín smiled before he cringed again. His grip on Manolo's hand tightened.

"Furious, I thought he was going to kill the three of them."

"Did you catch it?"

"Papá didn't want to kill it, so I had it chase me around the square until it was worn out and calmed down. I guided it back to the stable after that."

"Taming bulls even before the after life, huh?"

"I at least know that was the day I knew I couldn't kill a bull in the ring." Manolo sighed.

"I thought that was Maria's fault." Joaquín took a long breath as his hand relaxed.

"She may have started it, but when you guide something that's supposed to be a vicious beast it gives you a new perspective." Manolo shook his head. "Not once did it even try to wander off. I was only guiding it by a small rope, it could have easily broken free."

"I thought you were trying to make me laugh." He smiled.

"Ah, sorry," Manolo let their fingers slide together. "The funniest part is the bull refused to charge me in the ring afterwards. We had to sell it."

Joaquín did laugh at that before he gasped and squeezed his eye shut.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

"Really Manny?" The soldier took in a sharp breath. "What's the point of even asking that."

"Sorry, habit. But you're free to discuss it at any time."

"I think this one was the time I tried to leap from roof to roof and landed in someone's bushes."

Manolo couldn't hold back his laughter. "You did what?"

"Hey, it's just a guess. At least I imagine this is what it would feel like. You know me, gotta go for the big entrances."

"Like putting your horse on top of a roof? How many times has he done that?"

Joaquín smirked. "Quite a few actually."

Manolo laughed again and soon his friend joined him. "You could certainly never be called boring, hermano."

"I should hope not, that's like, the most insulting word of them all."

"Even worse than calling your mustache mediocre?"

Joaquín frowned and considered for a moment. "You're right, that might be worse." He turned his head. "You don't think it is, do you?"

Manolo smiled as he found himself studying the colors in Joaquín's eye. "I think it's the most wonderful mustache in all of Mexico."

Joaquín snorted but returned the smile. "Come on Manny, you should save the romantic lines for-" His eye suddenly widened and he was practically crushing Manolo's hand.

Manolo felt the scream before he heard it. Shamefully all he could do was put his other hand around Joaquín's and close his eyes. This one must have been worse than before, as the sound only stopped for Joaquín to catch his breath.

The torero's own body shook at the sound. He was losing the feeling in his hand but he ignored it.

When the screaming did stop he kept his eyes shut. He could feel how much his friend was shaking, and hear the sobs he was trying to hold back.

All he could do was lean his forehead against Joaquín's fingers and sing. It started out as a light hum, searching for a tune, but soon mindless lyrics left his lips.

Even when Joaquín's body relaxed he continued. He didn't stop until María came in and offered to switch.

"Chuy wanted to say hi." She smiled as the pig wandered over.

"Hey buddy," Joaquín's now free hand dangled off the bed. Chuy nosed at it before laying down underneath.

"You should take a break soon." Manolo said as he stood up.

"Not for long." He said through gritted teeth. "I want to get through this as fast as possible."

"Of course you do, tough guy, but you're taking a break soon." María put her hands on her hips.

He managed a smiled as his head rolled to the side.

"Take care of him, I'm going to help with the repairs some more." Manolo kissed her cheek. "Have you explained anything to your father?"

"Yes, but it took everything not to have the entire town busting in here and finding out. I swear if he gossips." Her eyes narrowed and Chuy even growled.

Manolo smiled and gave her another kiss. On his way out he paused and glanced back, seeing her lean over plant one of her own on Joaquín's temple.

He thought he should be jealous, but he wasn't, not at all.

The next few days passed the same. He and María would swap places, either spending their time working or getting their own much needed rest. Even when the petals put Joaquín to sleep Manolo couldn't make himself leave the room, just in case. A couple of times he fell asleep on the chair with María shaking him awake.

She brought in some books on the second day, offering to read some of them aloud. Manolo knew it was her turn but still he stayed. Both of them drank in her words as she made her way through the adventurous tale. She would always pause if Joaquín's pain became too much. Her hand would gently brush his shoulder and sometimes his cheek.

Every time it settled down Joaquín would take a deep breath and say, "Well don't stop now."

Despite how much pain he knew his friend was in, Manolo couldn't help but enjoy the time they were spending together. With the stories that were going around it felt like they could properly recover all those lost years.

But for whatever reason it seemed Joaquín only completely dropped his wall when he was alone with one of them, not both.

"Did you know he writes?" María said one day as he pair were making dinner. Joaquín had ended up passing out from the pain, and the moment he awoke she demanded he eat a few petals and get some sleep.

"No." Manolo said. "Well I mean, I guessed something was going on with his handwriting." He recalled the amount of autographs he had seen around town. "Did he say what?"

"Letters, at first, to his father."

Manolo paused, almost dropping the potato he was peeling.

"Sometimes to his mother, he made some offhand joke about poetry and then mentioned he kept a journal when he traveled."

"I... had no idea." Manolo looked at the floor.

"He said when he gets better he'll show them to us." She smiled but her eyes were sad. "What do you think he writes about?"

Manolo said nothing. He hadn't the faintest idea. Was that Joaquín's secret? Was he able to bury his feelings by putting them onto paper and shoving them into a drawer?

Just how long had he been doing that?

Manolo felt his stomach twist but decided to push his emotions back into potato peeling.

"Was it lonely, when you were traveling?" Manolo dared to ask when they were alone. It was quiet, apart from Joaquín shaking breaths.

"Sort of? I don't know." Joaquín eye looked dazed. Manolo had tried to get him to sleep some but he refused. "Plata was there, and I met plenty of people. If no one was around I..."

"Wrote?"

"So María told you." He smiled. "Yeah, I did, I kept a journal. You're free to make a joke about that."

"What could I say? I make up love songs on the spot that, as you said, 'make churros taste bitter'."

His friend laughed, long and loud. "Did I say that? That's a good line."

Manolo rolled his eyes before his hand somehow found Joaquín's yet again. It was pretty much instinctive at this point. "Yes, you said it as you kindly interrupted me singing to María."

"Just wanted to make sure you didn't forget I was in the other room."

"I never would." Manolo's thumb trailed over Joaquín's.

"You should sing me one." Joaquín had a lazy smile on his face now, his eye trying to shut. He probably would have fallen asleep if another green mark didn't tear it's way over his chest.

Manolo shrugged and went to grab his guitar. He sat at the foot of the bed, tuning in the instrument before he started to pluck at the strings.

The fourth day is when things turned terrifying.

Manolo returned from redecorating his own home in the afternoon. When he reached the door, however, he could already hear the screaming. It echo'd through the entire house and he rushed his way to the bedroom.

Joaquín was curled up on the bed, clutching his pillow and trying to use it to muffle the sound. There practically wasn't an inch of skin that wasn't glowing violently. María sat there, book clutched so tightly in her hands that her knuckles were going white.

It only lasted for a minute but his friend's screaming and writhing made it seem far longer. When it stopped Joaquín collapsed onto the bed, unconscious. His body continued to shake and María took no time to put a hand to his forehead.

"What was that?" Manolo shut the door.

"Not the first one." She bit her lip. "It's been on and off like that for the past hour, I think."

"What?" Manolo's mouth went dry.

"It's a miracle he's been conscious for them all."

"He didn't take a break?"

"He refused, the idiot." She frowned but her fingers continued to draw gentle lines over his face. "He'll be taking one for sure when he wakes up though."

"And I will make certain of it, you should take a break as well." Manolo put a hand on her shoulder.

She was silent for a moment, studying the lines on Joaquín face. Then she leaned to the side, letting her head rest against Manolo's stomach.

His arm immediately wrapped around her head as his hand ran through her hair.

"I'm scared." She admitted. "It's been getting worse and worse. What if Xibalba was right?"

"Come on, this is Joaquín. If anyone could pull through this it's him."

His wife looked up at him. "Survival is only one thing to worry about, Manolo."

"I know, mi amor, but all we can do now is hang onto him."

Slowly she buried his face into his jacket and started crying. Manolo just kept his arms wrapped around her and did his best not to join her.

The soldier finally took a break after he awoke to eat and get some much needed rest. However, the moment the petals wore off the glowing returned with a vengeance. The screams and sobs were violent and almost constant. Manolo could barely keep a conversation much less a song. He simply held Joaquín's hand, holding it close and subconsciously pressing kisses to his knuckles.

It continued into the next day. After a mostly sleepless night, it was around noon when they forced him to take another break. Even with the glowing gone Joaquín's body trembled.

"Are you okay?" Manolo had to ask.

"To be honest it's getting weird when the pain's not here." His friend forced a laugh. "On the bright side I doubt getting hit while in a fight will be much of an issue."

"Don't say that," María frowned. "You could get seriously injured."

"It'll be fine." He grinned.

Would it? Would it really? Manolo suddenly felt nothing but anger as he looked at his friend's empty smile.

"Stop saying that," His voice was low as he clenched a fist.

"Huh?"

"I said stop saying that. Stop brushing this off like it's not a big deal. Why do you feel the need to put up such a wall around us?"

"Manolo-" María tried to cut in.

Joaquín managed to sit up on the bed. "You have a better idea for coping with this? Or are you telling me you didn't laugh it off when you got injured during practice."

"That's not-"

"Or is me trying to blow this over not the only thing on your mind." Joaquín's eyes were tired but his gaze was focused.

"This isn't the time for this." María said. "We all need some rest."

"The medal," Manolo ignored his wife, for the first time. "You never told me about that. You didn't tell me you wrote anything, when you were planning on traveling next, was there anything I knew about you growing up that was real? Did you not trust me with any of this?"

María glared at him.

"It wasn't any of your business." His friend gritted his teeth. "And what would you understand, anyway? Even with your father's shadow you had your music friends to pull you out every now and then."

"It's not my fault you got so self absorbed with your image."

Joaquín shot up from the bed. "You still don't understand. You don't understand a damn thing. The second I stopped being an idol they all would have forgotten me and you know it." He stepped up to Manolo, towering over him. "You had your father, your great grandmother, your friends. I didn't. All I had was a mother who could rarely bother to stay longer than a week at best."

"You had me." Manolo squared out his shoulders. "You had me and yet from day one you buried everything. Did you think if you let your guard down I'd think any less of you?"

"Yes!"

The room fell quiet. Manolo's shoulder's relaxed and his hands fell open.

"I... I had to protect you too." His friend's glare was slowly falling. "I... I wanted to be your hero too. I wanted to inspire you not... drag you down."

The pair just stared at each other with wide eyes. Joaquín's lip trembled and he returned to sitting on the bed.

After a few deep breaths he spoke up again. "Tell you about the medal and you'd think nothing I did was real. Tell you about how lonely it got sometimes and you'd stop your training to spend time with me. I didn't want you to help me, it's supposed to be the other way around."

Manolo knew he shouldn't, but he burst out laughing.

María shot him a dark look and Joaquín just gaped for a moment.

"Sorry, ah I'm sorry." Manolo took a deep breath. "But, really, you were trying to impress me? Hermano there's hardly anything that could possibly make me think any less of you."

Joaquín sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Yeah, I know that now."

María's sharp sigh made them both jump. "Well then, if you two are finished, I think we could all use some rest." She was smiling but her eyes were narrowed.

"Sorry," Manolo tried to smile at her before he looked back at the soldier. "I truly am, sorry."

"So am I Manny."

Joaquín managed to stop shaking and curled up on the bed to sleep. The second Manolo shut the door María slapped his cheek.

"What?" He asked as he put a hand over it.

"He's going through enough Manolo, did you really have to bring that up now?"

"I... no. But he doesn't need to keep pretending for us."

"He knows that, just give him some time." María took his hand and led him to her room. The couple quickly fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms but were eventually awakened by more screaming.

Another long day.

When evening hit María told Manolo to go and get some sleep first. Of course he wanted her to rest but she insisted that he needed it more than she did at the moment. He decided to take her advice.

Somehow he managed to doze off in spite of the shouts and sobs from the other room. His dreams were restless, however. It was just a constant downpour of rain. Each drop stung his skin as he searched for a shelter of some kind. Eventually he came upon a tree and darted under it, but somehow the rain continued to hit him. Scanning the area his eyes fell on two unmarked gravestones. Then he heard the hiss of a snake.

As he turned to the noise the hiss melted into a scream. The scream of his wife.

Manolo's eyes shot open.

"Joaquín?" María was shouting the name frantically from the other room.

He tore out of the bed and down the hall. The door almost burst off it's hinges when he threw it open.

María was leaning over his friend, both of her palms on his chest. He seemed to have passed out again, mouth hanging limply open.

"What happened?" He asked, although he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"He's not breathing." She gasped through tears. Her hands pressed down on his chest over and over again in rhythm. "Manolo he's not breathing."

The air left his own lungs. He darted into the room, although he had no idea what he could do to help.

"Hermano, please." Tears stung his eyes. It couldn't end like this.

María bent down further and pressed her lips against Joaquín's. After only a moment she was back up and returned to the rhythm.

_Please._ Manolo's mind was screaming. The same empty dread he felt when María had been struck by the snake returned. He had prayed he'd never feel that way again, but that was foolish.

Joaquín gasped. It was small, barely noticeable, but he took a few more sharp breaths after that.

"Joaquín?" His wife grabbed the soldier's face. Manolo dashed to the marigolds and plucked a few petals.

"Wh-what?" The soldier turned his head and blinked a few times.

"Can you hear me?" She said as she took the petals from her husband.

"I- yeah." His eyes fluttered open and he glanced around the room. "What happened?"

"You were dead." Manolo said.

His friend swallowed the petals and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Then, a smile, and then a laugh.

"This isn't funny." María snapped.

"Just a little? I mean it happened to the two of you, I suppose it was my turn."

"It's still not funny. Not at-" She looked like she was going to slap him but jerked him up into a hug instead. Joaquín just sat there, eye wide as María sobbed into his shoulder. "You were dead."

"Well I'm back now, yeah? You won't get rid of me that easily." He kept smirking until he looked at Manolo. "Sorry, maybe now isn't-"

Manolo cut him off when he wrapped his arms around the both of them.

"Aw, Manny, you were crying? I should be honored."

He only now noticed the tears on his cheeks but just squeezed tighter in response. "Shut-up you idiot."

"Just reminding you that I'm alive."

"You don't need to talk to do that." The only sound he wanted to focus on now was the beating of his heart.

Joaquín eventually returned the embrace, holding them both as they continued to cry into his shoulder.

At some point they all fell asleep.

When Manolo awoke he found one of Joaquín's arms wrapped around him. He was using the soldier's shoulder as pillow. His own arm lay across his chest with his fingers on María's. His wife was curled up against his friend, her hair covering her face and his other arm.

He was certain neither of them were sleeping, although their eyes were closed.

Manolo considered getting up but just let his head fall back onto Joaquín's shoulder. It was warm, he was still tired, he didn't want to move.

"Even with the pain gone I can't sleep." Joaquín suddenly spoke. "Not between you kicking me and María's snoring."

She slapped his chest lightly but smirked.

"It's a wonder either of you sleep when you're together."

"I think we're both really heavy sleepers." She yawned.

"Wait, how long were we out?" Manolo sat up. "Those petals must have worn off by now."

Joaquín's smile grew. "It's done, I think. Check out the last one it left me."

Manolo looked down at Joaquín's chest. The green mark had turned dull, but still clearly shown against his skin. He didn't meant to let his fingers trail over it, but they did.

"Is that... a pig snout?" He bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"Yeah, after all these years that boar María let out still got me." He bust out laughing.

Manolo could no longer hold back his own laughter and he could hear his wife giggle into his friend's shoulder.

"But how long were we out?" The guitarist said when his laughter died down. "How long were you..."

"A couple of hours." Joaquín's lip shook his mustache. "I... didn't want to wake you two up."

"Idiot." Manolo frowned.

"Yeah I know."

He looked out the window to see the sun still rising up from the horizon. If it was morning he knew he and María should leave. Joaquín needed to rest properly and if someone walked in it'd be difficult to explain.

Then he snorted before tossing off his jacket. "If you don't want me to kick you make more room."

Joaquín's eye had fallen shut again but he smiled as he pressed himself closer to María.

Manolo collapsed back on the bed. He pressed his forehead against Joaquín's neck as he wrapped an arm around both of them.

"I'm glad you're okay." He muttered.

"But of course, I'm the great hero of San Angel." The vibrations of his throat made Manolo's eyes slide shut.

"No," María cut in. "You're _our_ hero."

Manolo just hummed in agreement as the trio drifted back to their peaceful sleep.


	4. Joaquín Writes a Lot

**Well I had to do something after seeing the tweet about this. Sort of takes place after the medal fic, also there's a sort of part 2. ALSO this fic literally went nowhere I was planning so I hope you enjoy it anyway *falls over* Basically: María looks at some of Joaquín's letters. The pair discuss them but maybe it gets too personal. **

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><p>Curiosity was her vice. That, coupled with her lack of concern for consequences, had been getting her in trouble from a very young age. María knew this.<p>

And yet here she was, peeking in Joaquín's drawers.

He and Manolo had left bright and early in the morning. Both of them were at it again, boasting about who would be getting more work done that day. In the heat of the moment they had both run out of her father's house without waiting for her.

At first she had been angry, the idiots, but after getting ready for the day she got an idea.

Joaquín had said he would show them his writing. However he had done so when he was tired, exhausted even. She wasn't sure if he even remembered, or when he would gain the confidence to.

And she was so, so curious.

Just a few. She told herself. Read just a few, put them back where you found them.

That didn't stop the constant need to slap herself and leave the room. She couldn't invade Joaquín's privacy like this.

The drawer was already open.

María sighed and gave in. She peered at the stack of neatly folded pages. They filled up almost the entire drawer, some looking much more aged than others. She carefully picked up the oldest stack, leafing threw them until she pulled one out. She organized the stack on the desk, to make certain she could put them all back in place later.

She was so careful with unfolding the paper and was stunned by the messy handwriting. Of course it must have taken a few years for Joaquín to perfect his letters but it still seemed strange.

_ Dear Papá,_

_ Manolo won't stop crying._

Her heart immediately stung and her fingers gripped the page.

_ He misses his mom a lot. I get how he feels, but he won't come outside and play with me and María anymore. I miss him. I miss you too. I hope he feels better soon._

María's shoulders dropped as she folded the page. She shouldn't be doing this.

She put the letter back and pulled out another.

_ Dear Papá,_

_ I got a medal the other night. It was weird, but it helped me a lot today. This boar ran right into me and I didn't feel a thing. General Posada says I'm a lot like you, that I could be a hero like you. I'm so excited to start training. But he wants to send María to Spain. I'm worried papá. I'll miss her. Is she going to be lonely without us?_

This time she managed a faint smile. So that's when he had gotten that medal. It made a lot of sense now that she thought about it.

The next letter she got had smudges on a lot of the ink. Had it gotten wet?

_ Dear Papá,_

_ María left today. Manolo locked himself in his room. I know it's late but I can't sleep. It feels so quiet. Did you ever feel like this Papá? I hope Manolo comes out soon. It's too quiet without them._

The more she stared at the stained letters she realized that Joaquín must have been crying.

_ María told me to always fight for what's right. I have to make her proud too._

She snorted before folding the letter. Perhaps when she was brave enough she'd ask him when he forgot what she said back then. Or rather, not that he forgot, but he put it in the back of his mind. She had been so afraid at first that he had lost his way. That the person she cared so much for was buried under pride and legends.

When she put the letter back she re-stacked them all and slipped them into the drawer. Of course she should shut the drawer and walk away but instead her fingers were grabbing the newest sheet of paper.

The handwriting was so much cleaner now, almost unbelievably so. The idea that someone like Joaquín could put so much care into his writing still baffled her, even just a little bit.

_ Dear Father,_

_ It's been a while since I've written. A lot has happened since I arrived back in San Angel. María looks amazing, stunning, there aren't enough words for it really. She's even more admirable than when we were kids. I suspect she has even more surprises for us as time goes on. _

_ I almost lost her._

Something deep in her stomach twisted.

_ Her and Manolo both, they were dead. I'm still not entirely sure how it had happened. Apparently Xibalba, a god, sent a snake after them. For the sake of winning a wager he put their lives at risk, and I couldn't protect them. I did my best to be a hero like you, father, but I couldn't save the people I love. Did that ever happen to you?_

_ But they're okay now. They're alive, they even got married. It was incredible, father, you should have seen it. The whole town celebrated, and Manolo's entire family was there from the Land of the Remembered. _

_ I wish you could have been there. I wish I could have handed all of these letters to you. To this day I still have so many questions. I suppose I'll have to wait just a little longer. Until then I'm going to keep fighting for what's right. _

María smiled and trailed a finger over the ink. It moved down to where he signed his named to notice that he wrote a slanted heart over the I. She giggled.

"And here I thought you'd be upset."

He heart stopped and she spun around to see Joaquín leaning in the doorway. Her instincts told her to jam the page back in the drawer and shut it but she couldn't.

Still, she wasn't sure what to say.

"Manolo and I panicked when we realized we left you behind." He stepped into the room. "I told him I'd come and take the heat for it but, what are you laughing-" His gaze finally fell on the page. "Oh."

"I'm sorry." María bit her lip. "I got curious when you were gone and I- there's no excuse really. I'm sorry for just barging in and reading it."

She waited for him to glare, get irritated or even angry at what happened.

Instead his gaze softened and he let off a sad smile. "Nah, it's fine. They're pretty embarrassing though, right? I mean I'm guessing that's why you were laughing."

"No!" She didn't meant to shout as loudly as she did. "I just... you still put hearts over your I's."

Joaquín looked surprised before he laughed. "Oh, that. It became a habit after so many autographs, at least with my name."

"It's cute." She smiled at him, then bit her lip again as she handed him the letter in her hands. "But I still shouldn't have read them."

"You _could_ have asked, but I'm not mad." He kept his soft gaze on her. "Then again I don't think I could be mad at you, or Manolo."

"As I recall you've gotten mad at him a few times." She crossed her arms.

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have." Joaquín opened the letter and looked at it. "Oh, so you found this one huh?"

She wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't sure what he was thinking about as he looked at it. Instead she just put her hand over his.

When the silence continued she spoke anyways. "You know we both still think of you as a hero, don't you?"

"I know, but I always wonder what he would have thought."

María had no answer to that.

Joaquín shook his head. "It doesn't matter right now. What other ones did you read?" He stepped over to the drawer and put the letter back.

"Just a few from the oldest stack. About when you got the medal and when I left."

"I barely even remember what I wrote for those." He smiled.

"You said... You know it's fine. We don't have to talk about this right now." María headed to the door. "I'm sure Manolo is waiting for us so-"

"María." The sound of his voice made chills appear on her arm. "It's all right."

She bit her lip and stared at the floor as she moved close to him again. "I... didn't realize Manolo locked himself in his room. How long did that go on?"

"Not long, his dad had him outdoors for practice pretty much the next day." Joaquín was flipping through the letters, glancing at the text. "Was there anything specific you wanted to look at?"

"I'm actually really interested in your journals."

Without missing a beat he opened the drawer next to it. Inside were a few unlabeled books as well as a number of crumpled pages.

María found herself peering closer into the drawer until he pulled out the books and handed them to her.

"One isn't full yet, but those are it."

She felt the binding under her fingers. The pages were worn around the edges, some of them creased together. She opened one of them and flipped through it. Not only was there writing, she found doodles between them.

"Actually, can we read these out loud?" She finally met his gaze.

"Huh?"

"With Manolo, I'd like to read them out loud. It's like your own adventure story."

"No, they aren't that great." He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to laugh. "But if you really want to you can."

"We can when you're ready."

"I told you it's fine-"

"Joaquín." She reached out and put her hand over his. "I know I asked you to trust us but I don't expect you to put everything out in the open. You don't have to push yourself."

He glanced at the drawer and shut it. "Well, that's a relief. That means I can leave the poems until later."

"Those were the poems?" She smiled.

"Yup, but no peeking."

"If they're so terrible then why did you keep them?"

He paused and bit his lip.

She studied his expression. "Because they still mean a lot, right?" She guessed.

"You know me too well." He shook his head. "It makes me wonder why you even want to read this stuff."

"No, I- I learned quite a bit just reading those few." She looked down at them. "Could we look at a few more before we go?"

"You're going to make Manolo jealous." He smirked.

"You're giving him a head start on your contest, I think it's a fair trade."

When Joaquín flipped through the letters again María was suddenly very aware of how close he was.

"Anything specific you want to see?"

"What was your first letter? Why did you decide to start writing them anyways?"

"Ah, that." His eyes grew distant again. He pulled out the letter at the bottom of the oldest stack and held it out to her.

María clutched the books tighter in her grip and looked up at him. "Would you rather I just read it? Or do you want to try reading it out loud."

"Out loud?" His face paled. "I mean, I can try."

"You don't have to."

But he was already opening the paper. He was silent for a while, scanning the words in front of him. She watched his jaw tighten and, with this distance, could hear his uneven breathing.

He opened his mouth but paused and cleared his throat. The letter was shaking in his hands.

"Dear Papá," he began but paused to take a deep breath. In the middle of it he slipped into a quiet laugh.

"What is it?"

"A part of me can't believe I wrote this. It's so... childish." He shook his head. Another deep breath, "Mamá said she's leaving. Her and General Posada were arguing about me. He wants to train me to be a soldier like you. I want-" His eye darted down. "I want to be great like you." He let out a shaking breath. "I'll miss her, but she said she would visit, and that I should write to her. I'm going to learn to write better, since she loves to read. I'll practice by writing to you. Maybe someday you... you could..."

His hands were shaking so much he had to lower the page. It took a moment, a few shuddering breaths, for him to speak again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." María stepped even closer. "That's a good enough reason to write if I ever heard one."

"But why did I even keep it up?" His gaze moved past her. "He can't read these. There's no way I could take them to the after life."

"Well Manolo can pretty much summon La Muerte whenever." She giggled, tried to relieve the tension in the air. "Maybe should could take them-"

When Joaquín slammed the letter on the desk she almost dropped the books. A moment later she was holding them close to her, like a shield. Joaquín's teeth were gritted together and he glared at the floor.

"What is it? What's wrong? Did I-"

"No," he sighed. "You're fine I just..." He dug the heel of his boot into the floor and put his hands behind his back. "You'll probably think I'm crazy."

"I saw my husband bust out of the ground, reincarnated. At least try me." She gave him a smile.

He returned it. "Since I was little I sometimes get the feeling that... my father never really died."

"What?" She raised an eyebrow. "Then where would he have gone?"

"I don't know."

Another step closer. "What makes you think this anyways? Or is it just an instinct."

"As if my instinct has ever been that spot on." He snorted. "His battle with Chakal is so muddled, everyone has a different story to tell it seems. I still don't know what really happened. And Manolo told me he didn't see him or even hear about him in the Land of the Remembered. Isn't that... strange?"

María's mind was coming up with explanations but she said none of them. What he said had merit to it. After all she didn't know if they had a body to bury when they made the grave.

And now, Chakal, the only person they could have asked was definitely dead.

"Maybe we could ask La Muerte about that." She finally just turned and stood next to him.

"Someday, maybe." He kept his eyes on the letter as he folded it back up. "Right now I'm not sure I want an answer."

She only nodded in understanding and decided to offer a distraction. "Read another one?"

"Of course, my lady." His confident smirk returned. "Which one this time?"

"How about one from when I was in Spain."

"That doesn't narrow it down much." His laugh was genuine this time. He slipped the old letter back into it's stack. "But let's see if I can find an interesting one."

After a few moments of digging he pulled one out. "Oh you'll love this, I'm sure your husband hasn't told this story."

She grinned and leaned against his arm.

"I think this is when I was fifteen? Dear Papá, Manolo got hurt today."

María's smile fell but she said nothing.

"Not too badly, mind you, but enough to get people worried. I took him out drinking the other night. I don't think he recovered this morning for training."

"Joaquín!" She elbowed him.

He just smiled and continued. "A part of me is glad the bull almost got him. If he had gotten out unscathed his father probably would have done something much worse. I can't apologize to him enough it seems, but I don't think he's mad."

She couldn't hold back her giggles. The image of a younger version of her husband bandaged up and pouting while Joaquín spouted apologies was too much.

There was a bit of a pause before he continued. "I think you'd like Manolo, papá. I hope you would have. He doesn't take his legacy very seriously but he's still my best friend."

María tilted her head at the look in Joaquín's eye. Where had she seen that expression before?

Then it vanished behind a smile. "Another?"

"Okay, last one, let me pick it out." She moved back to the desk and put the books on top before she dug in. Avoiding anything bringing up painful memories was ideal, but she was certain they all did in a way.

He stood behind her and his hand slipped past to put his own letter back. When his fingers brushed against hers the static that came from it made her hair stand on end.

What was that?

Whatever it was it made her pause, perhaps for too long.

"María?" He was still behind her.

She returned to her search and tried to think of something to say. "Does your mom write back?"

"A lot, actually. Oddly enough we communicate better that way. I... feel like there's something about this place she doesn't like anymore."

"Maybe it's my father." María turned around to face him.

He laughed. "That might be it."

"Did you visit her in Mexico City?"

"Yes. She's happier there, I think, but we still talk better on paper. I'm not sure why that is." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Have you tried asking her?"

His gaze was focused on the window. "No I'm... afraid to."

She couldn't believe how lost he looked. Her friend had spent so many years with his confidence pinned to his chest. How long would it take him to get all of it back? Besides, even with the medal's help it seemed he didn't have the courage for that.

She only now noticed that her hand had made it up to his cheek. It lingered there, and Joaquín dropped his arm as he stared at her.

"María?"

"Hm?"

"Ah, um, are you feeling okay?" His cheeks were going red and his eye darted around. "I mean, um-" His hand was reaching up towards hers but didn't touch her. He probably thought tugging her arm away would have been rude.

She snorted and smiled at the idea. "You goofball."

His eyebrows shot up and he almost stumbled backwards if it weren't for her hand still on his cheek. "I- um- you know we should- Manolo's probably waiting, you know."

Manolo, the man she married, the man she loved, there was no doubt in her mind about that. From his reckless courage to his tender words, every moment made her heart swell.

But now he wasn't the only one.

"Joaquín."

"Y-yes ma'am?" He became so formal when he was nervous.

She decided to lower her hand but rested it on his chest. His heart was pounding. "Is it all right if I share a secret?"

"What? With me?"

"Ah, no." She pretended to look behind him. "With the other Joaquín."

He frowned at her. She laughed.

"If you want to." He said.

"Do you remember what I told you before I left for Spain?"

"Of course. Although, I suppose I almost forgot didn't I?"

She nodded. "That's why I love Manolo."

He physically flinched from that.

"But, you remembered." Her hand trailed up to his shoulder. "You're much more the hero and the man I daydreamed about now than you were before."

Joaquín just stared at her in stunned silence. His mouth hung open and the redness in his cheeks spread to his ears.

Her hand slid behind his neck and she leaned toward him.

Then she was suddenly flying back. Her hip slammed into the open drawer and she almost fell onto the ground.

Joaquín's expression was nothing but sheer horror for a moment before it melted into concern. "O-oh god, are okay? I'm sorry I don't know-"

"I'm fine." She held up a hand. If he got close to her she'd try and do something stupid, again.

"I..." He looked around the room for a moment. "I'm... I'm sorry I need to go. Sorry." His body was shaking until he sprinted out of the room.

She could hear the door slam downstairs. Only then did she rub the sore spot on her hip, although she really wanted to slap herself in the face.

What the hell was she thinking? And she had the audacity to call her husband reckless.

She loved her husband.

But she loved Joaquín too.

Instead of thinking about it she made sure the letters were in place before shutting the drawer. She gathered up Joaquín's journals and made her way to the door. Soon the top one was open and she flipped through the pages as she made her way down the stairs. She only skimmed a few words or phrases, laughing at how different his voice sounded here compared to his letters. It seemed he spilled whatever he was thinking onto the page.

Then she turned to one page in particular. Her eyes immediately widened and she almost slammed the journal shut.

Now that was interesting.


	5. Seventh

**Follow up to the last one because they all need to kiss don't they. I had fun with this so I hope you guys enjoy it. Basic summary: They have a proposal for Joaquín but he's... drunk off his ass. **

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><p>Manolo shouldered his way into the bar and welcomed the familiar smell of sweat and liquor. It was much quieter than the one near the almost-repaired church but plenty of people crowded the tables chatting away. He scanned the room but was soon interrupted.<p>

"Manolo!" Pepe shouted as he and his brothers stumbled over. "You're a little late for music."

He smiled and eyed the drinks in their hands. "I'm looking for Joaquín, actually. Did he come in here?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure if he's here anymore." Pablo pointed to the corner as all three of them broke into laughter.

Joaquín was at a small table by himself. His head was down and his hand clutched at a half filled glass.

"How many?" Manolo frowned.

"Man he used to be able to down twenty of those no problem." Pepe said. "But I think that's only his sixth."

Only his sixth? Manolo wasn't entirely sure what his friend was drinking but he was sure six was more than enough.

He headed over but paused when he realized he wasn't alone. The brothers all stared at him with wide eyes and open mouthed grins.

"Guys? Could you give us some space?"

"Oh, I knew it, something happened." Pablo hopped. "Whatever though bro." The brothers all scrambled away, cackling.

Manolo shook his head before he made his way to Joaquín's table. The soldier didn't seem to know he was there until he sat down.

"Huh?" Joaquín sat up. His sleepy eye went wide when he spotted Manolo. "Oh, um, hi Manny.

"So this is where you've been? I've been looking all over for you." He nudged his friend who almost fell over.

"Ah, yeah, sorry it's just..." He trailed off and stared at his glass. "You know I was..." He brought the glass up to his lips and took a long sip.

Manolo watched for a moment. "So, María told me she almost kissed you."

Joaquín jerked in his seat but managed to keep himself from spitting the alcohol all over the table. He put the glass down as he coughed and gasped for air.

Manolo couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"Sorry!" Joaquín sputtered out. "Manny I'm sorry I don't even know what happened." He swayed in the chair. "Please don't hate me, please. It won't happen-"

"Relax, hermano. I don't hate you. She already explained everything."

"Wha- everything?" His eye was wide but couldn't seem to focus. "Like everything, everything?"

Manolo reached out and grabbed Joaquín's shoulders to keep him upright. "Not in precise detail, but yes. Trust me I'm not upset, though I think we need to talk."

"T-talk?" He squeaked. "L-look I'll just stay away from her for a while. I mean I already have it's been a few days-"

"Joaquín it's been over a week."

"What?" He almost fell out of his chair and looked back at the alcohol. "Ugh, damn, where was I the other four days then? I don't remember."

"I don't know, although I've only been looking the past two days."

"Wait, wait, I think that's why I woke up in Plata's stall yeah?" The soldier tried to glare at the wall.

"How many of those have you had?" Manolo pointed at the glass.

Joaquín squinted at it. "Uh, today? Not that many? Only like... seven."

"Only seven? That's a lot."

"Yeah but I used to be able to drink like... so many." He slammed the cup on the table. "I'm off my game Manny, it's terrible. How am I supposed to win those drinking contests now?"

Manolo sighed. Talking to Joaquín while he was like this was impossible, at least in terms of anything serious.

Unless...

He left the table for a moment and came back with a drink of his own.

"So," He said. "It's been a week now, let's talk."

"I said I'm sorry." His friend looked like he was going to cry. "Can't we just forget I tried to do something awful?"

"Joaquín, María said she tried to kiss you."

"Huh?" He blinked. "But why would she do that? She's married to you. I mean, if I was married to you I wouldn't go kissing other guys."

Manolo tried to hold back his laughter as he started drinking. "Well, that's certainly good to hear. I'd be devastated if you wound up cheating on me."

It took a moment for Joaquín to process that as a joke. "You didn't get mad at her right? I can't imagine you two fighting."

"I... needed some time to cool off." Manolo took a longer sip. "It could have been much worse."

"Th-that's good." Joaquín tapped the table. "I'm still sorry."

Manolo shook his head. How was he supposed to explain this, and to a drunk no less.

"You know, since she told me what happened between you two how about I just tell you what happened between us? Think you can stay conscious?"

"Of course! What do you take me for?" Joaquín leaned on his hand which slid along the table for a moment.

He tried not to laugh. "All right, well I didn't see either of you at the church and was getting worried. So I headed home and..."

* * *

><p>"María? Are you here?" Manolo nudged open the kitchen door and peered inside.<p>

His wife was there, sitting at the table with her forehead in her hands. She was staring at a book, two others laying next to it. Her eyes were narrowed, eyebrows pressed together, and half her bottom lip was between her teeth.

"María?"

She blinked and sat up. "Oh, Manolo. Sorry I was lost in thought."

"What are you reading?" He nodded toward the book as he stepped inside.

"Joaquín's journals."

"When did you get those?"

She looked back at the pages before she sighed and shut it. "Can I talk to you?"

Warning flags went up everywhere but he did his best to stay calm. He should at least listen first, right?

"Of course." He sat in the chair across from her and gently put his guitar down next to him.

Her fingers tapped against the table and she avoided his solid gaze. "When you guys ditched me here I ended up snooping in Joaquín's room."

"Did you steal those?" Manolo moved his eyes to the journals.

"No! I was looking through some of his letters when he caught me. We were talking for a while. He gave me these himself just so you know."

"All right, all right, I believe you." Manolo held up his hands. "Is there something in them you wanted to talk about?"

"There's a few things I want to discuss." She was biting her lip again. "But first thing's first. I..." She trailed off.

Manolo watched her open and close her eyes a few times. Her eyes were fixed down at the table and glanced back and forth. Finally she dropped her forehead into her hand and muttered something.

"Huh?" Manolo tilted his head.

Nothing but muttering again.

"Mi amor, I can't hear you."

"I almost kissed him." She suddenly shouted before burying her face in both of her hands.

Manolo sat and stared at her for the longest time. Somehow his mind was failing to process the words.

"What?" He said. His wife almost kissing his best friend? For a while the image wouldn't register in his head. However when it did the anger hit him all at once. "You what?"

"Manolo-"

"You almost kissed him? You wanted to?"

"You're allowed to be angry but can I explain-"

"Explain what?" Manolo stood up. "I swear if he pulled some kind of trick on you-"

She slammed her hands on the table and stood as well. "Husband dearest, I love you, but if you don't give me a minute to explain so help me I will jam this into your throat." She held up one of the journals.

Rage was still boiling under Manolo's skin but he kept his teeth gritted instead. He should at least listen to her first.

With a deep breath he sat back down. "All right, fine. What's going on?"

She crossed her arms and sat as well. "Do you know why I love you?"

That caught him off guard. He thought for a moment but couldn't bring up an answer.

"Because I will always love the man who plays from the heart." She smiled as she stared at the guitar.

"Then why-" When she held up a hand he bit back the words.

"You know when we were younger you weren't the only one I loved."

Realization flooded his mind. "You also loved the man who fights for what's right."

"Yes."

"And he's come back."

Her gaze moved over to him. "Yes, you're catching on much quicker than I thought."

Manolo became aware of a numbness spreading over his limbs. He felt dizzy.

"I... need to go for a walk." He grabbed his guitar when he stood.

"Manolo, I'm not-"

"I know." He managed to meet her gaze. "I know. I'll come back I just... need to clear my head a little."

She looked him up and down but gave a faint smile and nodded. "All right. If you see Joaquín don't hurt him."

Manolo made no promises to that.

Thankfully he didn't see his friend anywhere as he wandered the streets that night. He mindlessly plucked at the strings of his guitar, nodding at anyone who passed by. Most of them were happy to see him, but there were still a few towns folk who'd cast him wary glances and shuffle to the far side of the street. He didn't entirely blame them, someone coming back from the dead was a lot to deal with.

He did run into the Rodriguez brothers who invited him for a drink but he declined. As much as he could use the alcohol if he was out too long his wife would worry, or slap him, or both.

But whenever he was alone he tried to mull it over in his mind. His wife kissing Joaquín, should he truly be that surprised? She had placed plenty of small ones on his face when he was recovering and he had no reaction to that at all. Perhaps because he assumed there wasn't anything romantic about it, or perhaps there was another reason.

His mind wandered to the countless number of times he kissed Joaquín's knuckles as he held his hand. But that had been a comforting gesture, nothing more.

Nothing more.

Eventually he made his way back to his house. His wife said nothing until he put his guitar down and slumped back into the chair.

"Feeling better?" She said.

"Less angry, more confused now." He rubbed his forehead and leaned on the table. "Still a little angry though."

She giggled a bit. "Look, if you're uncomfortable with my proposal then we can just slap my wrist and make me promise never to do it again, deal?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Proposal?"

María opened the journal from earlier and flipped through the pages. "Manolo, how do you feel about Joaquín?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just tell me, and be honest."

Be honest? The answer was obvious. Joaquín was his best friend. The most important person in his life outside of María. He cared about him, loved him, but not enough to hand his wife over. He opened his mouth to tell her this but wondered if she wanted a more detailed answer. Surely she knew all of this already.

But now his mind was wandering back to the past week. His fingers curled as he remembered the heat of Joaquín's palm against his. After only a day it seemed like their hands barely disconnected while he struggled with the after effects of the medal. He remembered his friend's soft but honest smile, the rise and fall of his chest, how the sweat made his hair cling to his neck-

"Manolo?"

His face slipped out of his hand and almost hit the table. "Ah, yes?"

She gave him her I-know-what-you're-thinking-about smirk. "I was asking about Joaquín, remember?"

"Yes, I just... he's my friend. He's important to me and I love him and..." He bit his lip. "I may understand your dilemma."

"Good." She grinned.

"Good?"

"Well, I know how he feels about me and I may have a good idea on how he feels about you." She slid the journal over to Manolo.

He stared at the page and leaned toward it as he started to read.

_ Week away from San Angel. Nothing much to report but it's strange, I'm thinking about Manolo a lot recently. I blame his singing, he's gotten way too good at it lately. Did I write about that song he showed me? He said it was for María and I'm certain if he sings it to her she'll be head over heels._

The words "I know I was" were scratched out to a point Manolo almost couldn't read them.

* * *

><p>This time Joaquín did spit out his drink. Manolo had to squint to keep the spray from getting in his eyes.<p>

"Wait, no, I forgot I wrote that damn page. I never should have given her those oh god." His friend buried his face in his hands.

Manolo took another sip of his drink and was almost at the bottom by now. He could feel the alcohol start to buzz around in his head. "Do you still feel that way?"

Joaquín said nothing but made some kind of high pitched groan. He didn't lift his head.

"Well," Manolo decided to continue. "María told me that-"

"I should leave." The soldier suddenly sat up. "I should just... you know... I should go."

"What?"

"San Angel, maybe I should travel for a bit. I mean you guys did just get married but there's been all these town repairs and then that stuff with the medal you haven't gotten any quality time so maybe I should just-"

"Hang on." Manolo turned. "You still can't walk around town without running into something you can't leave town yet. More to the point we don't want-"

"It's all messed up now, I'm sorry." He stood and tried to slip out of the corner. "Tell María sorry too."

"Wait, Joaquín-"

Too late.

His friend's foot caught on the leg of his chair. He couldn't even hope to catch his footing but still tried to catch himself on the next table. It fell with him. A glass went flying, smacking some poor drunk square in the back of the head. Whether he passed out or just fell over he still collided with his own table, shoving it forward and knocking out three more guys in the process.

A collective groan rose from the floor as anyone who was still standing stared in shock.

"Ay, you see what I mean, hermano?" Manolo finished off his drink before he stood and tried to help his friend up. "Sorry about this." He tried to smile at the bartender who just shrugged.

"Honestly? Those three have done much worse." He pointed to the three brothers who stopped their laughing.

"What? Come on man at least it takes three of us to do that kind of damage."

Manolo threw Joaquín's arm around his shoulder and did his best to stand up. He wasn't a lightweight by any means but it felt like his friend was trying to sink into the floor.

"Come on, we should head home. I'll tell you the rest tomorrow."

"No, I'm fine." He stumbled when he regained his footing. "I'm fi-"

Manolo smiled as he caught Joaquín against his shoulder. "Come on."

The soldier said nothing else as Manolo guided him out of the bar. It was nothing but silence for a while, and when he was confident enough in his footing he pulled out of Manolo's grip.

"What was her proposal anyway?" He muttered.

"I think I should tell you that when you're sober." Manolo blamed the alcohol when he stepped closer. "Before you knock over three more tables."

"Did you agree to it?"

"I said I'd think about it." Which was true, but he already had. Two days of looking for his friend gave you plenty of time to do so.

His knuckles brushed against Joaquín's and without thinking he grabbed his hand. His friend said nothing, not even when their fingers laced together.

Another spell of silence struck, though the walk was not uneventful. More than once Joaquín tripped on nothing and, if not for Manolo's grip on his hand, would have fallen over. Manolo laughed at him but karma struck when he himself tripped. Soon both of them were laughing, leaning against each other's shoulders for support.

"Reminds me of when we used to sneak that alcohol when we were littler."

"Littler?" Manolo smirked. "And I don't know about you but I barely remember it. You kept daring me to over do it and the rest of the night was a blur. Every time dad got mad at me I swore I'd never do it again."

"But you still did. Remember that time we woke up on the roof of that house?" Joaquín's laugh was deep, a pleasant sound that Manolo could almost feel vibrating in his own throat.

"Not as funny as the time we woke up in the barn and your butt was stuck in the water bucket."

"You pushed me in there, I remember that."

"Did I?" Manolo puffed out his chest. "Victory for me then."

Joaquín shoved him but he didn't go far with their hands still connected. Manolo just laughed and shoved back. The game continued until Joaquín stumbled a bit too far. He fell back, dragging Manolo down with him.

"Damn that hurts." He muttered but didn't complain otherwise.

"Yeah, well your medals aren't that comfortable either." Manolo's free hand was planted into a few as he tried to lift himself up. "You should get some more casual clothes."

"Never, I can't imagine going anywhere and nowhere without them."

Manolo snorted at his slurred speech but managed to stand. "Get up, we're almost home."

"Let's just sleep here."

"No," He laughed and tugged.

With little effort Joaquín jerked on his hand and Manolo crashed on top of him again.

"Hah, take that Sanchez." The soldier's eye had fallen shut. He looked rather relaxed and peaceful for someone laying on cold stone.

"I'll sing the rest of the way home." He couldn't explain why his finger was trailing along his friend's collar bone. Must be the alcohol again.

Joaquín opened his eye. "Can it be that one you sang for me before?"

"Of course."

When his friend shifted Manolo stood and helped him up. They continued their walk, the silence now broken by his quiet singing.

The song from before was the one he had written on the spot when Joaquín was sick. It wasn't entirely like the others he had made, it was more of a story. A story about a knight with invincible armor, who saved everyone. Then one day the armor was lost and yet still no weapon could damage him, for in the end the strength of his heart protected him above all else.

"Man, you really are amazing at that." Joaquín bumped into him. He had the stupidest grin as his hazy eye was fixed on the stars.

"So it takes you drinking to get you to compliment my singing?"

"Come on Manny, don't ruin the moment."

"What moment?"

Joaquín paused and looked around. "Huh, you know I'm not sure now. Coulda sworn..."

Manolo laughed and shook his head. "All those years with that medal who would have known you're even more useless than me when drunk."

"As if." Joaquín spun around so he was in front of Manolo. "At least I haven't let someone's entire chicken coop out."

"I can't believe you can remember all this in your current state."

"Writing gives you a great memory. I told your wife about that time you got hurt cause you were all hung over the next morning." That stupid grin returned.

"Ah yes, and as a form of an apology you said I should feel lucky the bull got me before my father did."

"Well it's true isn't it?"

Manolo didn't answer. He just stared at Joaquín's half lidded eye that somehow still managed to shine during the night.

"Hey," he kept grinning. "If your wife almost kissed me do you wanna try and get some revenge?" He pointed to his mouth and started snickering.

Manolo raised an eyebrow but then smirked. "Did you want me to?"

The laughter stopped immediately. His grin vanished and his mouth fell open a bit as he stared. "I... I was... maybe." He muttered the last word.

Manolo felt his heart pick up but he wasn't the least bit nervous. He couldn't say the same for Joaquín who's entire face had gone red. Still holding his hand he could feel his friend shaking. For a moment he considered moving slow to help him relax.

But that wasn't his style.

He let go of Joaquín's hand and grabbed his jacket. With a swift tug their lips pressed together. He actually squeaked from the contact and Manolo couldn't stop himself from smiling into the kiss.

Joaquín was surprisingly cute sometimes.

One of Manolo's hands slid behind his neck before he let himself focus on the sensation. The mustache tickled, a lot, but he rather enjoyed the sensation as he went to deepen the kiss. The soldier didn't protest at all. He left off a long sigh as his body relaxed, letting Manolo press even closer.

But just as he was starting to get lost in it Joaquín's entire body went stiff.

Before he could even ask he was suddenly thrown off and Joaquín made a mad dash for a nearby ally.

Manolo panicked for a moment. Had he seriously messed up? He started to run after until he heard Joaquín hurling against the wall.

And he was blaming him for ruining the mood.

* * *

><p>Waking up for Joaquín that morning was nothing short of tormenting. It had been like this the entire week, however, and at least this time he didn't have hay jammed in weird places. Even though he was conscious he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. He was surprised his headache was lighter than he expected. He reached a hand around to discover he was on a couch. Who's was it? How had he gotten here?<p>

Then everything started coming back to him.

Manolo found him in the bar and wanted to talk. He knew about Joaquín's journal entries on him. María had some kind of proposal for them too, right?

Manolo had kissed him.

The memory came back so clearly his hands still managed to cover his face in his drowsy state. He'd be lying to himself if he hadn't tried to imagine it when he saw him kiss María but that didn't come close. When the hell did the musician get so good at that?

Foot steps made him finally open his eye. He sat up on the couch, holding his hand to keep his headache at bay. He now realized he was in Manolo and María's house, their living room to be exact.

He glanced toward the source of the foot steps to see Manolo wander through. His hair was down in messy curls and he had yet to put a shirt on. Joaquín couldn't move his gaze away from the dark hair on his chest.

Manolo didn't even look at him as he made his way into the kitchen. Joaquín was starting to feel dizzy and he blamed it all on the alcohol from last night.

"Morning Joaquín."

He spun around to see María had entered the room. Her hair was down as well, even messier than Manolo's and had a robe wrapped around her.

He opened his mouth to reply but his voice was gone.

"Are you feeling okay? You were a mess when Manolo brought you in." She walked up to him and he tried to keep his eyes on anything other than her hips.

"F-fine." He stammered. "Thanks for letting me crash here but I should go."

"Go where, another bar?" She frowned.

"Ah, no?" He looked at the ceiling.

"At least stay for breakfast and some coffee. I'm sure you could use it. Besides, we still need to talk."

Talk? Oh right, her proposal. He tried to muddle over what it could be when something else took him off guard.

María was kissing him.

He couldn't stop himself from squeaking in surprise yet again and she pulled away laughing.

"That's so cute. I thought Manolo was kidding about that."

"Of course I wasn't, have a little faith." Manolo called from the kitchen.

María stared at the kitchen for a moment and crossed her arms. "Goodness no wonder he's so out of it. Put a shirt on, husband. Don't give me that smirk you've messed with him enough for the time being."

Joaquín was listening to them but couldn't move. His mouth hung open and he stared at the wall. What was going on?

"Do you need to sleep a little longer?" María was leaning towards him again.

"N-no! I- are you sure I shouldn't just- I-"

"Joaquín," She gave him a soft smile. "Relax."

He took a long deep breath but it barely helped. "Guys, what's going on?"

"Do you want the simple version or the better explained version?" Manolo stepped back into the room holding two mugs. He held it out to Joaquín who almost dropped it considering his distracted gaze.

"Stick with simple for now." He enjoyed the warmth in his hands. It helped calm his headache, just a little.

Manolo and María glanced at each other. The guitarist just shrugged, putting his coffee on a small table before both of them got down on their knees.

"Uh, guys?" This couldn't be what he thought it was. Heat was prickling the back of his neck and crawling up to his face.

"Joaquín?" María smiled.

"Will you marry us?" Manolo leaned against his wife and held out a hand.

He froze. His entire body went numb and he swore his heart had stopped. He had to be hearing things. Marry them? Both of them? At the same time?

His vision was going hazy.

"Whoa, hey." Manolo caught his shoulder in one hand and the coffee in the other. "Maybe you do need more sleep."

"Marry?" His voice was finally working again. "Why? Both- but- I mean-"

"I blame you for kissing him out of the blue." Manolo said as he took the coffee cup.

María stood up. "I thought it might cheer him up a little."

"Wait," Joaquín's brain was finally settling down. "So... are you saying that both of you..."

"Love you? Want to kiss you?" Manolo sat on the couch next to him and leaned over. "More?" He winked.

Joaquín's face somehow got even warmer.

"You're making it worse." María hit his shoulder. "But yes Joaquín, we both do. You feel the same don't you?"

He managed to meet her gaze this time. Of course he still loved her, she was amazing in so many ways. And Manolo, he had forgotten about those feelings for a while when he had been traveling. It was easy to get wrapped up in the crowds after all. Still, when he was recovering from the medal hearing his friend sing to him brought them all back at full force. He tried to bury them, and might have succeeded if María hadn't almost kissed him.

But if they both felt the same there wasn't a need to bury it anymore.

"I... yes." Joaquín swallowed when his voice got high. "But can we slow it down a little, please?"

"Si, mi amor." Manolo leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Who even knew he could make those faces." María planted one on his forehead before she went to the kitchen. "Come on, breakfast. And where's my coffee huh?"

Manolo rolled his eyes but smiled as he handed Joaquín the mug back. "Get some rest, hm?"

"I thought you said breakfast first."

He pushed himself up off the couch. "True enough, care to help?"

"I would actually," Joaquín took a long sip of coffee. "But I think I should grab a shower first."

"Well I wasn't going to say anything..."

The soldier just gave him a light shove as he stood up. "At least my hair can stay tame. Between the two of your how long does it take?"

"Less time if you help."

He took another sip of coffee. "That sounds nice, actually."

"Good."

Joaquín watched Manolo's smile for a moment before he leaned forward and stole a quick kiss. He thought for a change he had the upper hand in this situation.

"I love you." The smile hadn't faltered at all.

"Yeah... I... love you too." Joaquín shuffled past as he hid his face behind his coffee cup.

He could hear María snickering in the kitchen.


End file.
